


They Warned Me Satan Would Be Attractive

by AmyOwl470



Category: The Dark Tower (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11993103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyOwl470/pseuds/AmyOwl470
Summary: The Man in Black pays an endearing fan a visit and knows something that she doesn't want him to know. Huge thanks to my friend LizardBaby15 for helping co-write this!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * The Dark Tower book series and its characters are written by and belong to Stephen King. I do not own these characters. I only wanted to write a steamy fanfic for the Matthew McConaughey fangirls in celebration of the release of the film adaptation. *

You're home alone on a cold rainy day reading a book on the couch when you hear a knock at your door. Sneaking to a window in hopes of not being seen, you peek through to try and get a good look at the stranger who dared to intrude the safety of your own home. Low and behold: the dreaded Man in Black stands on your porch like a harbinger of doom. His sharp clothes and slicked back hair having lost their dark luster from the rain. You know you shouldn't let him in. You have heard many stories about a Dark Tower. A lone Gunslinger chasing down the evil Man in Black who vows to have the tower destroyed, bringing the end of not just your world but many others with it.  
No, you think. Those are just fairy tales. Stories. They can't be true. But suddenly, you find yourself allured by his looks and...sad for his current state of being. Slowly, you open the door and let him in. You invite him to take a seat in your kitchen as you warm up some chicken broth with rice from the refrigerator. Instead of following your command, the Man in Black decides to take a look around your house. Observing the various trinkets that adorn your fireplace mantle and the smiling pictures of your family on the wall. With a voice as smooth and tantalizing as velvet he thanks you for letting him into your home. Flattered by the kindness it took in your heart to want to help him.  
You finally find the courage to speak. “Who are you?”  
He turns with a smirk after stroking a thumb against the frame of a picture of you with your family during a holiday gathering. Nothing could prepare you for the calming, seducing tone of his voice. “Who am I? Oh no, where are my manners? I go by many names, but you may call me Walter. Walter O’Dim. From the look of awe and,” he pauses. Drinking in the way you stare at him. You swear you hear a faint chuckle from him. “Fear on your face, you probably know me by a more formal name.” His soft eyes look up to you when you notice the rising suspicion in your gut that he may have the ability to read your mind. To see right through any weak mental barriers you may try to throw at him.  
With your heart racing like a drum, you swallow hard. Clenching and unclenching your fists in hopes of stopping the sweat that is starting to pool in your palms. “You’re… You’re the Man in Black.” He chuckles again, amused by the fearful respect you have for him that he senses. It sends an electrifying shiver down your spine, a fist clenching to keep your whole body from shivering as well. The cheerful beeping from your microwave snaps you out of your frozen state. You silently thank the device for distracting you with the task of retrieving the broth. Sliding oven mitts over your hands, you reach inside and pull out a large piping hot bowl of soup. Grabbing two smaller bowls and a ladle, you carefully begin to distribute the meal amongst you two. The rising steam wafting the nostalgic smell and memories of eating warm soup on a cold, wet day like this. Placing a spoon into each bowl, you push one of them towards Walter.  
“Be careful. It’s very hot.”  
Walter smiles at your friendly hospitality and begins stirring the contents of his bowl. “Why thank you. If only more people were kind to me like this. I’ve grown quite the reputation in my world, if you know what I mean.” You nod in response, excusing the growing warmth on your cheeks with the influence of the soup. A few agonizing seconds of silence pass before you clear your throat to speak.  
“Well, I couldn’t just leave you out there in the rain. I- I would have wanted for someone to invite me into their home if I were you.”  
He smirks at your comment before finally taking a sip of the warm broth.  
“I can understand that, sweetheart. The world can be a cold and unforgiving place sometimes, regardless of which one you’re in.”  
Sweetheart. The word alone causes you to flare up with a fever of arousal. You can’t help but feel like wanting to swoon from his alluring voice, detecting a slight Southern drawl in his tone. Your legs cross and uncross uncomfortably under the table. Eating a simple meal with a handsome stranger couldn’t be more tense than right now. Silence plagues the room once again as you both finish your soup. The curse is lifted with the dull groan of your chair being pushed back from the table. You rise to your feet to collect the dirty dishes. You feel thankful for cleaning the used bowls as the mildly scalding water streaming from the faucet washes at your slick palms effortlessly.  
“If you want, I can get a fire going. You must be freezing in those wet clothes.”  
Walter teases you with another coy chuckle.  
“A fire sounds quite lovely. Any home wouldn’t be complete without one.”  
Oh my god. He knows this is torturing me, I just know it! Maybe the sooner I start that fire, the sooner he can shut up and leave me alone. An intense heat simmers within your core in protest of your last comment. But I don’t want him to… Drying your hands with a dish towel, you pull three logs from the rack besides the fireplace and stack them neatly within the ashen cavern. You tear up some old newspapers for kindling, a headline highlighting abnormal earthquakes occurring more frequently during the past few weeks. They were nothing too dramatic but it was still concerning. Your town didn’t usually have earthquakes in your town. The worst that would happen were gentle tremors and nothing more.  
You shake your head and proceed with your work, blaming the unexpected quakes on the changing climate. You crumple one last ball of newspaper and reach for a box of matches when a cold hand stops you.  
“That won’t be necessary, dear.” Walter croons. He flexes the same hand and poises it in front of the stacked logs. “Allow me.” With a snap of his lithe fingers, a roaring fire bursts to life as if being lit from gasoline. Your gasp of surprise amuses him as he slowly starts to massage at your shoulders.  
“How did you- ”  
“Magic, sweetheart. I’ve got a little knack for it. You don’t need to tell me you’re impressed. That adorable look on your face told me everything.”  
Adorable?! Did he really just call me that? Before you can come up with something witty to toss back at him, the calming squeezes and motions against your shoulders lure you to slump back against his chest. You find yourself suddenly overwhelmed with bliss, all of your fears and worries meant nothing to you in this moment.  
“Did you really mean it when you said I was torturing you? I’m truly sorry for causing you such...discomfort. I thought a small massage could ease your pain. Or perhaps you had something else in mind.”  
Your body tenses up under his touch.  
“Torture? I wasn’t thinking about that-” It was at that moment you realized a terrible truth. Walter O’Dim, the Man in Black, could read your thoughts. You swallowed hard as you found your own mind almost held hostage under his power, unable to hide anything from the evil sorceror. Walter would hear your thoughts before you could even muster them into your mind. There was no way to sugarcoat this situation. You were fucked.  
“Y/N, darling, I knew exactly how you felt about me the moment you saw it was me at your door. It’s astounding how you didn’t even try to block your feelings for me while you were in my presence. I am quite flattered that you think of me that way.”  
His hands now ghost down your back and over the curves of your waist.  
“If only I had the power to help fulfil your little fantasies of me.”  
Shit. He knows that I’m crazy for him. Despite the fact that he’s literally trying to destroy the world, I still have sinful fantasies of this bastard that all involve him in my bed. You sigh and admit defeat. Looking up into his eyes, you admire the way the orange flames of the fire flicker against them. You muster up your courage and give Walter your best puppy dog look.  
“Actually, there is one thing you could do to help me.”  
The Man in Black stares back into your [e/c] eyes with feigned bemusement.  
“And what’s that, y/n?”  
Lifting a hand to touch his pallid cheek, you tilt your chin up and daringly press your parted lips to his. Walter groans against your lips as he turns you around and caresses your face with his hands, stroking a thumb against your rounded cheek. You’re shocked, yet satisfied, to find yourself practically straddling his lap in this new position. Walter pulls away for a brief moment to shrug off his raven black jacket and kisses you again with much ferocity and lust. You can’t help but to moan against his lips, becoming more flustered as he chuckles with amusement. No words need to be spoken. The two of you having all of these pent up emotions desperately needed a way to vent. Preferably in a physical, more intimate manner.  
You pull away to catch your breath and to drink in the sight of Walter being so close to you.  
“Is there any way we could go someplace more private? A fireplace floor isn’t the kind of place for what I had in mind.”  
Walter responds with a smoldering grin. A hand already pulling away from your side to perform another feat of dark magic.  
“Darling, your wish is my command.”  
You hear a snap of his fingers and there is darkness until you open your eyes to find yourself in an elaborately decorated bedroom. You’re already pressed down against a massive crimson bed, Walter’s smug face hovering inches above your own.  
“Shall we begin?”


	2. An Apology

Dear Readers,

First of all, I want to say from the bottom of my heart a huge thank you to you guys for reading my Dark Tower fanfiction! This story took a lot out of me when I finished my final draft and posted it onto this wonderful site one year ago. Not so much that I was afraid of what people might think of it, but more so of the fact that I had never shared a piece of my own writing on a public domain for the whole world to see. Something that my friend and I poured our hearts and souls into, in hopes of letting other fangirls (and fanboys) know that they were not alone with their Matthew-McConaughey-as-The-Man-in-Black infatuations after seeing the film. We did everything we could to make sure this story was prim and proper enough to be posted on AO3. From the details of each scene, to the grammar, to everything else in between. I was so happy to receive the emails notifying me each time you lovely people left a comment and or kudos on our story. Your support meant a lot to me and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that I had made someone out there happy. Even for just the small moments it took to read it.

Now for the sad part. The one thing I've been meaning to get off my chest for the past twelve months. I no longer have the inspiration nor drive to write a second and final chapter to this story. Yes, I would have have bits and pieces of ideas of what to write about. But I didn't know where to start with them. I have never written a graphic sex scene before. I doubted that I could ever write my own unique spin on one after the countless NSFW/smut/lemon fanfictions I've read on Tumblr and Archive of Our Own. And you want to know what's really ironic? I've done some pretty raunchy roleplays for the past several years of being a single-ready-to-mingle, boy/girl crazy fangirl on the Internet. Yet I didn't have the energy to sit down and write a simple chapter where the plot comprised of an attractive, middle-aged man bumping uglies with a flustered (LEGAL AGE) female reader.

Here is where I want to give you guys a reality check. And please don't take this the wrong way, as I had no intention of sounding condescending as I wrote this. As of now, I have started my third year at a community college studying for an associate's degree in biology. I am a part-time student, but that doesn't mean that I am also busy with other things. I've been working weekends at a frozen yogurt store for the past year. I have a ton of books I've been meaning to read for as long as I've had them on my shelf (spanning from weeks to years, it's that bad). Like the tides on a sandy beach, my feelings toward my fictional crushes ebb and flow with time. Sometimes new ones get pulled into the fluctuating motions like a stray seashell or piece of driftwood. I keep telling people that I want to study at a university to pursue a career as a veterinary assistant. When deep down, I might want to go down the path of wildlife rehabilitation/conservation. I care a lot about animals, as growing up surrounded by them fueled my admiration for all of the beautiful creatures on this Earth. I just don't know where exactly I want to apply that love and fascination to.

Okay, that last paragraph sounded a bit...preachy, I apologize. But it's true. That's what's so interesting about life. Nothing is set in stone. Every person is writing their own story. Going through many chapters, both good and bad. I've been thinking long and hard enough of the words I wanted to say. And I already feel extremely relieved in the process of writing this open letter. A dark place in my mind feels that I've let you guys down by not being true to my word and writing a second chapter. But the optimist in me knows that you guys are friendly people who have no ill thoughts toward my abandonment of this story. As human beings, you all have some understanding of what I'm going through, and I thank you for being so considerate.

Again, many thanks for reading this collaborative story between my friend and I. We had a lot of fun writing it together and giving each other constructive criticism through hours of Google Doc comments and chat boxes. Regardless of a fanfiction's length, that's what should matter in the end. That both the author and readers are having fun. On that sun shiny note, I bid you folks adieu. It's been real.

Sincerely,

AmyOwl470


End file.
